


Anew

by Twyd



Series: Anew [1]
Category: The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguity, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Caretaking, Childhood, Coming of Age, Death, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Slash, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: A canon divergence from Mummy Returns. If Rick and co really had died in the dirigible.





	Anew

**Author's Note:**

> There is a time jump in this fic, if anyone is concerned about the (brief) Alex/Imhotep pairing.

Alex may have miscalculated. Yes, he has run, and yes ihe may have actually managed an escape this time, but he has no food, no water, no shelter, no clue where he is, and he has to be careful he doesn’t lean too far east and end up in the desert.

He ran for as long as he could stand it, heading blindly for where he thinks the city is, his legs raw and bleeding from falling and from shrubbery when it had been too time-consuming to find a path. Apparently he has not been followed. It seems too easy. Perhaps Imhotep is mocking him, waiting for him to collapse from exhaustion before strolling out of the shadows and depositing him back under Lock Nah’s vicious guard.

Thinking this, he has barely slowed to assess his whereabouts when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He yelps, but it is not Imhotep. A group of men who look like merchants surround him, speaking to one another in a dialect he cannot place.

Between pants, Alex tries to speak to them in different varieties of Arabic and Hebrew, but they either don’t understand or they ignore him. One of them starts to circle him while the others hold him still. They check his teeth and his legs. They appear to be fascinated with his blonde hair. He tries to kick, but he’s exhausted from running and running for so long. Eventually, one of them pulls up his sleeve to reveal the bracelet. They murmur over it in awe.

“Cursed,” Alex tells them in Arabic, and they laugh. They drag him away with them, and take him to a cage designed to fit an animal not much bigger than he was.

Inside, near weeping, Alex curses himself for his stupidity. What had he been thinking? He had just run blind, unable to face the thought of his parents’ death, but this was much worse. They would probably auction him off into slavery, and he'd die humiliated and suffering when his time ran out.

His captors return with what looked like a device that could break the bracelet or, failing that, his arm. Alex backs up in the cage, sobs building in his throat. The bracelet would protect him from harm. Wouldn’t it?

The men rise into the air then, as suddenly as if they were on stage and this were part of a cleverly constructed act. They are hurled into the nearest tree trunks before they can finish screaming, and Alex winces as he hears their bones crush. The bars of the cage are then crushed apart in front of him; he feels the power of it before he sees it, almost feeling himself be pulled in half with it. Imhotep appears in the gap, and the invisible force lifts Alex out of the cage and into the amused-looking priest’s arms.

“Out of the frying pan,” he mocks.

Someone must have taught him that, for Alex is sure they didn’t have frying pans in his days.

“I thought you would be more streetwise to this part of Egypt," the priest continues, stepping over the bodies.

Alex doesn't answer. He goes limp as the priest carries him away, numb with fear, wilting inside as he realises he’s failed yet again. He glares at the golden cuff on his wrist

“I thought the bracelet was supposed to protect me,” he mumbles.

“It will protect you from death,” the former mummy replies. “But you are merely its vessel; its power to protect you will weaken as we near our destination. It will have no use for you once we’re there.”

_Great._

“You are a fool, boy,” the priest says then, switching back to Egyptian. “You have wasted time. Did you not inherit your mother’s wits? It is in your best interests to cooperate, you know that.”

“What for?” Alex says, voice cracking at the mention of his mother. “I’m going to die one way or another, so what’s the point?”

Imhotep sighs and says nothing. He shifts the boy into a more comfortable position, and continues to walk as the other’s tears fall on his robe.

*****

Alex’s eyes are dry and hard by the time they return to camp. Some of the others approach and offer to take the boy, but Imhotep shoos them away. Alex’s eyes meet those of Lock-Nah, who is watching them apathetically. Their gaze does not break until Imhotep takes he boy inside his tent, letting the flap close behind them.

It is spacious and warm inside, a welcome reprieve from the desert night air. Alex is only now realising he’s freezing. Imhotep deposits him on bed rolls softer than they looked, and he wriggles into the warmth gratefully. He doesn't want to think or eat or be scolded. He wants to fall asleep here and never wake up.

The priest disappears briefly and returns with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. He kneels and tuts over the state of Alex’s legs, before removing the boy’s shoes and socks and beginning to clean the wounds, surprisingly gentle.

Alex turns his head away, not wanting to know why he’s he subject of such special treatment. He only looks back when Imhotep has finished bandaging his second leg.

Alex looks down at himself sardonically.

“I feel like a mummy.”

Imhotep smiles at this. He shifts Alex’s legs out of his lap and back on the bed, covering him with a blanket.

“My quarrel was with your parents, not you,” he says suddenly, as Alex expects him to leave. “You are a child, and it is unfortunate that you have become involved in this.”

Alex looks at him warily. It is the first scrap of pity anyone here has shown him, and he doesn’t trust it. The man’s cool hand rests on his forehead then, thumb massaging his temple in a way Alex wishes wasn’t as comforting as it is.

Looking at him thoughtfully, the priest continues. “I may spare you when we reach our destination.”

Tears prick Alex’s eyes. This mock compassion hurt more than outright cruelty.

“You’re lying,” he says. He tries to knock the hand off his head, but it is as hard and unmoving as a vice.

“Why would I lie?” Imhotep says with amusement, as the child tries to pull his fingers off. “I could dismember you if I wanted and there would be nothing you could do about it. I have no need to lie.”

Alex closes his eyes as fresh tears fall.

The hand softens slightly.

“After our business is concluded, I may put you on a ship to London. You can remain in an orphanage, until you’re of age to inherit your parents’ fortune.”

Alex opens his eyes to stare at him. This is mercy. This is the one shred of hope he could only pray for. But he thinks of returning to London without his parents and only feels numb.

“I believe orphanages in London would be better than those in Cairo,” the priest says, as if reading his mind. He removes his hand, and Alex tries to take comfort from the loss. “This is one option.”

Alex swallows.

“What’s the other option? Make mincemeat out of me for Lock Nah’s dinner?”

The priest smiles. “No.” He sits back and appears to be thinking. He doesn't speak for some time. “For my future journeys, I am in need of someone who would assist me without blindly following. Someone with the knowledge and the hunger to truly understand Egypt’s secrets.”

Alex stares at him, wondering if this part is actually a dream.

“I’m eight," he points out, in case this fact had been missed.

“I know, but you won’t always be eight. You are already more advanced in languages and history than most of my men.” He pauses. “You’re resilient and brave and you can think for yourself. And, you love this land.”

He smirks at this last part, as if underlining it.

“I wouldn’t ever help you,” Alex snaps. “I’d prefer the mincemeat option.”

“Really?” Imhotep smiles. “After your parents fought so hard to save you?”

“They wouldn’t want me to help you.”

“They would want you alive and well, child, and there is no safer place in the world than under my care.”

Alex shakes his head, feeling dizzy under the other’s gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbles. “You have enough evil followers.”

“It’s not another follower I need,” the priest says. “You will be my guide and my helper. In return, I will bring you closer to all the legends your mother told you of, and some not even she had heard of. I will protect you and teach you. You will help me in all my endeavours. You shall have a tutor that will travel with us, and anything else you require for your future. After ten years, I will give you what you need to return to London to accept your inheritance, and do as you please from there.”

Alex closes his eyes, feeling sick.

“I’m not evil.”

“It’s not evil I require of you, little one. It’s just uncovering old secrets.”

“I’m not stupid, either.”

The priest chuckles.

“All right. Go to sleep now.” He shifts on the bed. “But think about it, Alex. You have two days.”

****

Alex doesn't think about it. He spends his days thinking about his parents, thinking about other escape plans, that he doesn't fulfill as he is weak from lack of food. Lock Nah is not starving him, but he does not discourage Alex when he claims he is not hungry. They are close now, and he doesn't see the point in trying to survive. 

As they journey through the oasis, Alex begins to feel unwell. His legs stutter, and Lock Nah has to drag him along as he stumbles.

“None of your games, child,” he snaps, almost pulling the boy’s arm out of his socket.

Imhotep hears, abandons Anck Su Namun to push back through the ensemble. He finds the boy and kneels in front of him, peering into his eyes.

“The bracelet makes him unwell,” he says, and looks around himself contemplatively. “We’re getting close.”

Then he picks the boy up and carries him bodily back to his consort.

“I must go ahead, my love,” he tells her, briefly cupping her cheek, before forging on ahead.

Alex closes his eyes and lets his head fall against the other’s shoulder, drifting in and out of consciousness as they move, no longer caring what happens to him. It is only when he feels the added cold of a room that he opens his eyes. They are inside the pyramid. Imhotep sits with his back to the wall, keeping the boy in his lap.

“Am I going to die?” Alex mumbles.

“No. You are going to live.”

Alex says nothing more, too weak to even lift his head. But then the light of the sun is warming him, reaching behind his eyelids and into his bones, reviving him with every breath. The bracelet snaps open. Imhotep lifts it off while Alex is still recovering his senses.

“Don’t put it back on me,” he blurts.

The priest chuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Alex scrambles out of his lap and away from him to be sure. He finds the world is deliciously clear again; he can hold his head up and breathe once more.

The others can be heard approaching. Imhotep stands to greet them, holding the bracelet aloft. What’s left of them file into the room, and gaze at it in respectful silence.

Then Lock Nah enters. He sees it and sees the boy and goes to withdraw his sabre.

“Not yet, Lock Nah,” the priest admonishes. He smiles at the others. “Who would like the honour?”

There’s a silence. Then Hafez comes stumbling forward.

“My Lord, it would be my- “

“Good,” the priest cuts him off. He snaps the bracelet on to the other’s arm without ceremony. “Let us proceed. Lock Nah, remain here with the boy. You will have your just rewards once I return.”

Alex doesn’t dare look at the other man’s face at this command. He tries to calculate the distance between them and the door.

“Don’t you dare,” Lock Nah growls, seeing his gaze.

Alex deflates. It would be useless anyway. He has nowhere to go, no provisions, no-one looking for him.

He and Lock Nah sit down to wait. They wait a long time. The hottest part of the day creeps over them, and even in the relative shade of the pyramid the air is thick with it. Lock Nah detaches a flask if water from his hip and swigs. Alex stares at him until the man rolls his eyes and hands it over. 

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Alex ventures, unable to stand the silence.

“It’s no quick and easy matter,” Lock Nah growls. “But you should not be so restless, for once they do return, I shall finally kill you.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Alex says, sounding braver than he feels. “I mean, he’s kept me alive for this long…”

“Yes, so he can watch you die at his leisure.”

Alex gulps. He doesn’t speak again. He tries to think about Imhotep’s offer, if that’s truly what it was, but it is too hot to think.  It’s a fight to simply keep his eyes open.

When the whole pyramid shakes, Alex thinks he’s dreaming. Then Lock Nah jumps to his feet as it continues to shake, as sand and black dust clouds the air. Alex also stands with difficulty. The doorway is covered with a whirlwind of greenery, moving so fast it is nothing but a green blur. Lock Nah grips his arm, as if he could go anywhere.

It stops as suddenly as it started. The dust settles, the air still and silent, the only sound their breathing.

“...does that mean he did it?” Alex ventures.

Lock Nah says nothing. He appears to be in shock. He snaps out of it only when Alex steps towards the doorway, yanking him back impatiently.

“Don’t even think about it,” he snaps.

“But _look_.”

They both look. Where there had been acres and acres of greenery was nothing but sand, vast and unending in the harsh sunlight. They blink and stare, as if the sight may right itself at any moment

Ascending footsteps come from behind them then, distracting them. They both turn back to the stairway. Imhotep is first, complacent smirk in place. Less than half who had followed him return now, all of them looking shaken and sick. There is no sign of Anck Su Namun or Hafez.

Imhotep smiles at Lock Nah and Alex enigmatically.

“It is finished,” he says.

*****

They return to the abandoned train, apparently reversing their journey. So far, the world seems the same. Perhaps Imhotep will take it over bit by bit, rather than destroying everything all at once. Alex keeps quiet, hoping that they will forget that he is now useless, that Imhotep will not confront him about the decision he has yet to make. Lock Nah is also subdued, bringing Alex his food and water with no sneers or anger. He even lets the boy steal his coat that cold night for warmth, without complaint.

When he's alone, Alex strains to hear the others murmurs, trying to learn what had happened. From what he understands, Anck Su Namun had betrayed her lover, tried to take power for herself at last minute and fallen to her death. Imhotep had made some sort of pact with the Anubis. They fall silent just as one was about to clarify what this entailed. Alex strains to listen, when suddenly the train car's door is opened and he falls at Imhotep’s feet.

He jumps up and scrabbles backwards, as the man follows him at leisure and closes the door behind them.

“Boy,” he greets.

Alex swallows and thinks fast.

“So you’re king of the world now or what?”

“You tell me. You were eavesdropping, were you not?”

“I tried my best," he says guiltily. "They were very quiet.”

The former mummy looks at him, like he can’t decide whether to believe him or not.

“After I defeated the Scorpion King, Anubis presented me with...duties, over power. Anck Su Namun wanted to refuse. She wanted power. We argued. She ran and fell to her death. I didn’t go after her."

“...that was probably a good call,” Alex offers.

The priest frowns at him.

“You have had ample time to consider my offer, boy,” he says. “Do you accept?”

The child stares back at him helplessly.

“...I don’t know,” he says eventually.

Imhotep smiles indulgently, like he expected this.

“What if I can’t decide?” Alex adds. “Which will you choose for me?”

“I would send you back,” he says. “I’m not keeping you here unwillingly. Or,” he adds meditatively. “Perhaps it would be more fitting to turn you loose here, seeing as you reject both of my offers. We will see how you fare alone on the streets a second time round.”

Alex glares at him, and the priest only smiles back.

“My offer expires at dawn, little one. Come find me if you change your mind.”

****

He doesn’t sleep. He almost considers running for it, like Imhotep said, but loses his nerve. An hour before dawn, he gets paranoid that he won’t be able to find the man, and tears round looking for him. The others pay him no heed, apparently told to let him be. He finally smacks into the man alone in the end cart. 

“There you are,” the man smiles, steadying him. “Tell me, what did you decide?”

Alex tries to speak, but tears choke him.

“Don’t get emotional,” the priest says, wiping them with a thumb. “Make this choice with a clear head, because I will not let you go back on it, however much you kick and scream.”

“I won’t,” Alex growls.

The man keeps a hand on his cheek, looking almost sympathetic.

“You will feel better once you decide.”

“I _have_." He swallows, hating himself. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay here with you.” _Sorry Mum, Sorry Dad, Uncle Jon, Aardeth-_

“Excellent,” the priest booms. “Just tell me you wish to serve, and we have ourselves a deal.”

Alex blinks at him in confusion.

“Serve…? But you told me you didn’t want me to be like the others?”

“I still require some expression of loyalty, Alexander. Especially considering how much I plan to invest in you.”

“Bullshit! You’re just doing it to stroke your own ego, and to laugh at me and my parents!” he is screaming by the time he's finished.

Imhotep only shrugs, non-plussed.

“It’s up to you, little one. Serve or go back to London. I promise your gifts will be ten-fold if you choose to serve.”

“Liar.”

His eyes squeeze shut as the light intensifies with the rising sun.

“...I won’t kill anyone," he says through his teeth. "And I won’t help you with any curses, or hurting anyone, or anything evil.”

“I will not require your services in such things.”

He whimpers, hating himself, as something raw inside him pulls him down to his knees, and he hears himself speak.

“I will serve.”

“Good,” the other’s voice murmurs above him, gentler now. He kneels in front of the boy and tilts his chin up. “Well done, Alexander. You will live up to your namesake and achieve magnificent things. Your parents will be proud of you.”

His eyes burn with tears. He wants to bury his face in the other's chest in exhaustion. He wants to beg for any kind of comfort that would be offered to him. Instead, he runs from the room.

-

After the child has pledged his loyalty, Imhotep goes to find Lock Nah. Considering all that has happened, he is in a generous mood, and presents the man with his well-earned reward.

“I appreciate your patience with our charge, Lock Nah,” he says, as the other man’s eyes bulge over the gold.

“My Lord…” he murmurs.

“However, I have more to ask of you, “ he continues. “The boy will stay with us. He will remain under your watch. Should you choose to take your reward and leave, now is the time to make that decision.”

Lock Nah stares at him.

“Stay with us...for how long, my Lord? Another week?”

“About 10 years.”

“10 years?” the other repeats, voice hitching with shock.

The priest chuckles.

“He won’t be on your hands all the time, of course. He will have a tutor who will mostly watch over him. And I will spend some time with him myself. But we will still require your watch now and then.”

Lock Nah’s eyes continue to bulge.

“My Lord...if I can ask...you mean to adopt the O’Connell boy and- “

“Adopt is not the word I would use,” he interrupts. “With his parents’ death, he is the closest I have to certain...knowledge. I am using him, and he is using me. It is a fair bargain.”

Lock Nah nods slowly.

“Think on it, my servant," Imhotep tells him. "If you are still here at dusk, I will know you have chosen to accept.”

****

Alex grows up over the years, fills out. He stays the smart and wise-cracking eight year old, with harder eyes and stronger hands. At the boy’s request and with Imhotep's permission, Lock Nah had taught him to fight in their free time. He had not been gentle with the boy, only just keeping his promise to Imhotep to not break any bones, but it had made the boy strong and capable, prepared for anything. The boy would often drag himself to his lessons or on digs covered in bruises, barely able to walk, and Imhotep would simply tell him that if he was not able to meet his commitments, the training would have to stop. And the boy would only try harder.

“Are you not afraid of him one day rebelling, my Lord?” Lock Nah murmurs one scorching afternoon, as the boy limps off to find water. 

“Oh, the boy will one day try something whether he has this training or not,” Imhotep dismisses. “I am not worried.”

Lock Nah nods. A smirk forms on his face.

“I am naturally witholding a lot of my teachings anyway. The student will never beat his teacher.”

Imhotep smiles and doesn’t comment.

After a moment he follows the boy. He finds him leaning against a well as he swigs water, wet with sweat and exertion.

“Are you punishing yourself for your choices, my child?”

Alex stops drinking to glare at him.

“I have to know how to fight one day, I might as well start learning now. Even my Mum could fight.”

“Yes,” Imhotep says briefly, thinking of the old ways. “But perhaps you don’t need to learn so enthusiastically. You will not need to fight when you’re under my care, and when you’re not, people these days seem to prefer guns to hand-to-hand combat.”

Alex shrugs and says nothing.

Imhotep doesn’t press the point.

He watches as Alex returns to Lock Nah, and is knocked down within five seconds.

“Get up,” the man says dispassionately.

The boy tries, only to cry in pain as sand is kicked into his eyes.

“Many assailants will fight honourably,” Lock Nah’s voice comes over his wails. “But in a life or death situation, some will do whatever it takes to get the upper hand. You must be prepared for all attacks. Sand in the eyes. Spitting. Kicks to the groin. Get up, boy. If this were real you’d be dead by now.”

He gets up, half blind with sand. And kicks the other man in the groin before he can move. The man keeps the area protected, but the motion is still hard and fast enough to make him gasp.

“That’s enough for today," he snaps.

Alex collapses on his back, exhausted.

The other man glares at him instead of walking away. His reflexes are getting better, his surprise attacks sharper and more coordinated. He knows he is a good teacher, but part of it is the boy's spirit. 

“...that was very good,” Lock Nah concedes.

“What was?” Alex gasps. “My performance, or just getting to beat me up?”

“Both,” the man smirks. He kicks Alex in the side as he passes, to lightly to hurt.

****

Keeping his promise, Imhotep has Lock Nah find him several options for the boy's schooling. It has to be someone who is not only an academic, but someone who is happy to travel with them in unglamorous conditions, someone who can keep their mouth shut, and most importantly, someone who could keep up with the boy's wit, someone who would keep him from getting bored and not be intimidated by his traumatic past. Not that the boy came across as particularly traumatised. There were no tantrums or threats of suicide, even as the boy grew. The only symptoms were periods of silence and sullenness, that he always snapped out of within a few days, that may just be signs of hormones rather than trauma. No, Imhotep had selected not only a tutor, but someone who could be the boy's friend. 

For himself, he is content with Anubis' assignment to put ancient souls to rest. It is only fitting, really. He has enough power, and has had enough of pushing the Gods in their wisdom. Aanck Su Namun had been what hurt. He has no craving for power without her. He is content to concentrate on this new task while the wounds of his love slowly heal.

If the remaining men were disappointed about the world no longer ending, they do not show it. Perhaps they are content to serve the Gods in whichever way was required of them.

It does the boy good too, having complex puzzles to solve. He would have gone mad in an orphanage. And he holds his own among the men, pushing just as hard when there is a shortage of food or space round the fire, hounding Lock Nah when he is in a position to run, interpreting various texts and dialects as easily as an animal can interpret the weather. They grow used to him, sharing bread and hot tea or, as he gets older, beer, without question. 

Imhotep also allows him more free time as he gets older, allows him to explore cities and neighbourhoods by himself. He never runs, not any more. 

They are in Imhotep's chambers of a hotel in some forgotten corner of a city, the night before they move on. Sometimes even Imhotep savours this new age, the ability to draw a quick bath, to produce heat and light so quickly and conveniently. He needs it tonight. He has been thinking about Anck Su Namun, and it makes him feel exhausted and alone as a mortal.

The boy is beside him, on his knees at the table, flipping through an ancient book, jumping between translations and commentary. Imhotep lets him chatter. He is done for the night.

Alex eventually looks up when he gets no response.

"Does that sound right?" he asks falteringly.

"Yes," the priest murmurs without opening his eyes.

"How can you be sure?" His tone is challenging, but he shifts an inch in his chair, as if preparing to run. Sweet child. 

"Would you like to see something?" Imhotep says, instead of arguing. 

Alex looks at him suspiciously, but Imhotep proceeds without his consent.

" _Woah_ ," he hears the boy cry, as the room is transformed into gold, filled with decorations of the old days. There is a sweet smell of incense and oils, and a light breeze from the balcony. Imhotep opens his eyes lazily to watch the boy. Alex looks all round them, and then down on himself and his golden clothes. His eyes are wide with wonder. _He loves this,_   Imhotep realises. He stayed with his enemy because he truly loves this land. Imhotep wonders who the boy was in the past. He wouldn't be surprised if he were a noble scribe or advisor. 

Imhotep moves to the bed as Alex explores, playing with trinkets and fingering paintings and carvings on the walls. 

"What kind of room was this?" Alex calls, as the priest stretches out on the bed. "I mean, who would- "

"This was my room."

Alex replaces the jewels he'd found so quickly he almost drops them. He looks at Imhotep guiltily.

The priest is unmoved. "It's all right. You can do no harm here."

Alex looks around himself once more, before letting his gaze fall back to Imhotep's. The priest hears him swallow.

"You can do this whenever you like?"

"Yes."

"...can you show me more places like this?"

"Perhaps. If you're good."

He closes his eyes again, breathing in the oils and the balm of the night. He remembers nights like this lying in wait for Anck Su Namun. The memory is pleasant even now. What a fool he was.

Distantly, he hears the boy swallow.

"Can we go back now?" he calls tentatively.

"Soon." Imhotep opens his eyes and smiles on seeing his face. "Are you frightened, boy?"

Alex shifts uneasily. 

"I'm not exactly relaxed." 

Imhotep looks at him without comment. He feels a sadistic urge to keep him here, to torment him, make him cry and beg to be let back. But although the boy is unnerved, he is made of tougher stuff. How old was he now? 12, 13? 13. Halfway through their deal. Halfway to manhood and making his own way in life. The boy wanders round the room until he comes to the foot of the bed, perching on the end without looking at Imhotep. He is feigning calm, Imhotep can see that. 

He sighs, breathes in a final time, and sets the room back to rights with a shimmer. Alex blinks, looking relieved.

"Be careful what you wish for," the priest tells him.

"It was cool," the boy insists, but he looks glad it's over all the same.

Imhotep waves him away, suddenly unable to bear the sight of him.

"Go and bother Lock Nah now. I want to be alone."

-*****

It is Alex's 18th birthday. Scratch that, it is almost Alex's 18th birthday. An hour before, as a matter of fact. The day he thought he would relish has in fact been making him feel ill for as long as he could remember. Not that he lets this on. He does his work and completes his handover to the others. His bags are packed; Imhotep had told him he was welcome to anything, and he had chosen articles for their memories rather than their worth. He had never rebelled in his time here, never avenged his parents' death. Perhaps he will be punished for this one day. 

Imhotep comes to find him. Alex had seen him so seldom lately he'd almost wondered if the former mummy had forgotten the date, or perhaps he was happier to let Alex simply slip away like a cloud after a storm. Alex doesn't need approval or encouragement. He is ready. 

“You have booked your passage for London?” Imhotep asks.

“Yes.”

He’d booked it months ago. He’d also applied - and been accepted - on to an Archeology bachelors course at Cambridge. He had considered Cairo, even neighbouring cities and countries, but realised he needs to get away if he will ever be able to stand on his own two feet. He needs to get away and needs to face his old house, his parents’ death.

“You have been quiet these past few days,” the Priest continues, watching him. “Perhaps you will miss us.”

“I’ve been busy making plans,” Alex growls. He wonders if this had been part of them plan all along, to make Alex form attachments only to rip them away again. "Perhaps you will miss me," he says sarcastically, not believing it for a moment.

"I shall," the priest replies without hesitation. "But it is time for you to have your own adventures, and your own family.”

Alex shudders at the word.

The clock chimes. It is midnight. If he were younger he would cry.

“Happy birthday, child,” the other man says softly.

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“No,” the other man concedes. “You are not.” He pulls the other man in and kisses him. Alex lets him, too stupefied to fight as the other massages his tongue. He feels a whine in his throat as he realises part of him wants this. His heart is bursting with need.

“S-stop,” he gasps.

“You are a man now,” Imhotep teases, caressing his arms. “Do you not want to learn of such things?”

He shakes his head no, heart swimming.

Imhotep steadies his hold, turning serious once more.

“All right. But wherever you go in the world, my arms will always be open to you, Alexander O’Connell.”

Alex shudders inside at the words. Closes his eyes and allows himself to absorb the warmth for two, three more seconds before tearing himself away, snatching his bag without looking back.

He almost barges into Lock Nah at the border of their camp. The other’s dark eyes look him up and down, understanding at once.

“So you are leaving us.”

“Yes," Alex says, struggling to calm his pounding heart. "You can finally throw that party.”

The other man smiles, a genuine smile. He puts his hands behind his back. Alex thinks he may be about to knife him as a goodbye present, but he is presented with the other man's coat, the very one he had cuddled in childhood during the colder desert nights. 

“To warm your London limbs, brat," he says, half-mocking, half-solemn, while Alex is too stunned to reply. "Goodbye, O’Connell.” And he leaves Alex with the coat in his arms. He tries it on. It is a little big, but it will fit well over heavy jumpers in the British winters. He leaves the coat draped over his shoulder and heads into town, following the signs for the port.

There was no need for him to leave this early. His course doesn’t start for another six months, but it will give him time to adjust to being alone, to find somewhere to live, to learn how to be civilised again, an old language he’d forgotten.

It is a strange birthday. He feels like he’s lived a whole life, yet it has barely begun.


End file.
